Tease
by Gomes
Summary: [GC] When the betting's good, the good get betting...xXChapThreeXx
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: Tease  
  
AUTHOR: Gomey (grissomsgnomeyahoo.com)  
  
ARCHIVE: Anywhere, just let me know so I can brag..hehe.  
  
SPOILERS: None  
  
RATING: Very Strong R  
  
DISCLAIMER: All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.  
  
SUMMARY: When the betting's good, the good get betting...  
  
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CHAPTER ONE  
  
------  
  
She ran through the forest, hearing two sets of breaths behind her. Her lungs burned from her screams, and her ears tried desperately to block out the footsteps gaining. They were close.  
  
They were too close.  
  
Predictability slapped her in the face as her foot caught in a looped-root, and she tasted dirt as she plunged head-first into the darkened soil.   
  
And then everything stopped. Trees held their breaths and nature's critters spoke in hush tones, waiting for the next judgement.   
  
"No..." The tears choked her words as she tried to push herself up.   
  
Excruciatingly, the trees exhaled only to mask her last demand for help.

* * *

"Oh mama!"  
  
Gil Grissom checked his watch as he made his way into the break room. "Ten minutes." He informed the lab tech, who was currently ogling the models in the Sports Illustrated magazine.  
  
"Swimsuit edition, Grissom." Greg Sanders grinned cheekily, wiggling his eyebrows at his supervisor. "Check out this one!" The spikey-haired eccentric hopped off the couch and made his way to Gil.   
  
Gil grimaced. "Greg..." He began to protest, but was interrupted by the rest of the team filing into the room.   
  
"Hey, what do you have there, Greggy?" Catherine Willows asked, looking over his shoulder.   
  
"I was showing Grissom this brown-haired beauty." He stated, almost with a childish pride.  
  
Catherine raised her eyebrow, eyeing her partner. "I don't think brunettes are Grissom's cup of tea." She stated surely.   
  
Gil cocked his head to the side, neither confirming nor denying the strawberry-blond's thoughts.  
  
Sara Sidle stepped in. "Well, what about Lady Heather?" She glanced at Gil. "I mean, word was that Grissom was really taken with her, and she was a brunette."  
  
The rest of the members exchanged glances before Catherine spoke up. "I think she was more of a specimen." She met his eyes. "I think she intrigued him." The two senior CSIs held each other's gaze.  
  
Sara leaned against the counter, beside her supervisor, breaking the spell that he and Catherine were under. "Oh, and you think you know what kind of women Grissom likes?" The brunette asked the strawberry-blond, ever boldly.  
  
Catherine broke out into a slow smile. She opened her mouth, revelation on the tip of her tongue, then closed it. Sending a special wink over to Gil's direction, she plopped down on the couch.   
  
"Grissom, seriously, look at this one!" Greg hissed, obviously aroused by the women exposing themselves.   
  
"Greg...I think you need a better hobby." Gil patted him amicably on the back and headed towards his office.   
  
"Maaan, that guy must be a robot." Nick Stokes looked up from the magazine that Greg had been flaunting. "Seriously, I bet nothing turns that guy on!" He stated, though it was more of a pout.   
  
"I'm sure the mating rituals of the Tumbu fly probably get Grissom off." Warrick Brown walked in to the break room, heading straight for the coffee.   
  
Catherine chuckled. "Oh, Grissom gets aroused ... he just hides it," she observed their looks of disbelief, "really, really well."  
  
Nick glanced at her, challenge sparkling in his eyes. "Yeah? Prove it. If you can turn Grissom on, then I'll ..." He scrunched up his face, trying to think of a good deal. "Oh, I'll do your paper work for a week."  
  
"Okay..." Catherine eyed the younger CSI suspiciously. "And if I lose?"  
  
"You uh...you introduce me to one of your old friends, down at the French Palace." Nick flashed her a shy smile.  
  
"Better rephrase that Nick - knowing Catherine, she probably -will- set you up with one of her OLD friends." Warrick added, slightly amused by the amateur bets being placed.  
  
Catherine laughed then peeked over Greg's shoulder, who had moved back to the couch, and continued flipping through the magazine. "Is that the gal you showed Grissom?" Catherine leaned over more. "Oh, she is hot. Makes me want to bat for the other team." Catherine jested, while heading out the door.  
  
"Ooh, don't go breakin' my heart, Catherine." Greg feigned pain.

* * *

She had lost count of how many days she had been here. Her chest ached, and she tried to move her body - feeling jolts of pain coursing through. Her arms lazily pulled against her restraints, feeling the coarse rope slice through her skin. A cold gust of wind caused her attention downwards, and exposure presented its ugly face. "Please, help me!" Her voice scratched against her dry, cracked throat. She felt weak, and her eyes gave into slumber's temptation. "Please..."

* * *

It had been a week since bets were made, and Catherine was still planning her strategy much to Nick's dismay. "You're taking forever - I'd like a date while I'm still able to perform." The Texan whined.  
  
"What makes you so sure that you're going to win, Nicky?" Catherine asked, eyeing her subject heading to his office.  
  
"You're move." He drawled.  
  
"Fine, I'll go check my mate." Catherine rolled her eyes, and sauntered towards the docile man. "Hey Gil." She greeted him enthusiastically.  
  
Gil eyed her curiously. "Catherine." He opened his door and waited for her to enter. "What can I help you with?" He asked, settling behind his desk and sifting through some week-old case reviews.  
  
Catherine shrugged, walking over to his side of the desk. She seated herself on top, crossing her bare legs in front of him. She watched, a sly grin on her face as his eyes drank in the creamy smoothness of her womanly prowess. "Well, we haven't been able to chat recently."   
  
Gil blinked a couple of times before averting his gaze to the files in front of him. "Chat." He repeated, unsure of his voice. The image of her legs, begging to be caressed, was still burned in his psyche. He took a deep breath, and when his voice was sure, he spoke again. "And what would you like to chat about...here," he glanced up at her, "on my desk." And his eyes sought out her toned legs again, unabashedly memorizing her curves.  
  
"Grissom."   
  
Two sets of eyes settled on the man standing at the door. They both waited for Jim Brass to speak but instead he just motioned them to follow, with an indignant nod.   
  
Gil and Catherine exchanged concerned looks before Catherine slid off his desk and headed to meet up with the captain.   
  
Gil cocked his head to the side, his being taking in the sway of her hips -   
  
"- Gil?"  
  
His eyes jumped to hers, wide and caught.   
  
"You coming?" Her pearly whites made no effort to hide as she exited his office.  
  
Gil glanced down, noting the beginnings of a bulge in his pants. "...almost." He muttered gruffly before following the strawberry-blond's lead.

* * *

How long had she been here? Hands would touch her, breaking slumber's grasp, but weakness prevented her from reacting.   
  
Beaten...only to be cared for.  
  
Dehydrated....only to be drowned in water.  
  
Fasted...only to be filled with food.  
  
Kept alive...only to be killed again.

* * *

Gil stepped into the break room, taking a place behind Catherine. He always felt more confident around her, and just drew strength from her energy.  
  
"Okay, I need the whole team on this one. Remember seven years back, there was this murder that took place in the Hurnboldt-Toiyable National Forest?"  
  
"Yeah." Gil sighed. "Unsolved. The evidence collected just didn't make sense - we didn't even have a suspect." He added.  
  
"Well, there's another one."  
  
"What...serial killer?" Catherine asked.  
  
Jim shrugged. "I don't know - there was enough details that leaked to the press to spawn a copycat, but other than that, we have a crime scene to investigate." He handed the supervisor a file. "I'll meet you there, ASAP."  
  
Gil watched the captain leave and leafed through the information provided. "Blood splatter...so Catherine you're with me." He continued reading. "Sara you're with us."  
  
Catherine grimaced, cursing her supervisor's decision to bring the bold CSI. Sure, she was an asset to the team, but she wasn't in the mood to have the cupid-struck brunette hovering around Gil like a love-sick mosquito. She watched them file out, and then glanced at the remaining two CSIs. "What do you guys have?"  
  
"480, hit-and-run." Warrick grumbled at his obvious loss of a high-profile case.  
  
"Nicky?" She smiled, noting his pout.  
  
"Grissom has me pushing paper." He folded his arms across his chest, waiting for the mockeries to begin.  
  
A slow smile graced her beauty. "Well, practice makes perfect, huh Nicky?"  
  
—TBC— 


	2. Chapter 2

(Disclaimers et all in first chapter)

Notes: For Angie who has waited patiently for her delayed birthday present. Two months and counting, huh?

**Chapter Two

* * *

**

"Where's Rick and Nick?"

Gil side-stepped a puddle of mud, all the while trying to answer the stressed police captain. "Warrick already had a case to tend to. Crimes shouldn't have priority over the other." He stated sagely, though more of an insight to himself.

"And Nick?"

"We're in the woods, Jim. The evidence around us is already in a fragile state." Placing both his hands on a rocky ledge, he hoisted himself up, the hint of a boyish pride at still being able to tough the great outdoors. "The fewer people, the better." He held out his hand, his eyes taking in the open crime scene.

Catherine watched as Gil helped Sara up the steep area, grinding her teeth as she watched the younger CSI place her other hand over his, lingering in touch.

Gil turned to his partner, offering his hand and holding her gaze. His eyes quickly clouded upon seeing her daggered stare, and he silently inquired with a quirked eyebrow. He watched as she mimicked his previous position, placing her field kit beside his feet. His eyes held the kits position, and then blinked towards her, watching her arm muscles tense as she lifted herself up. Under the guise of aid, he placed his hand on the small of her back, helping her steady herself as she stood up. A small wink surfaced in retort to her sheepish thankful smile.

"Victim's name is Alexandra Greetly." Jim started, stepping under the yellow tape. He turned, watching the three CSIs stopping right before the tape. "Twenty-five years old, currently working as a nurse at the Desert Surgery center, and I think I have a lead as to where we can start looking for a suspect." Jim swept his hand across the crime scene, calling attention to the trolley on which the victim was resting on. Her naked body boasted fresh stitches along the side of her breasts, another diagonally across a fainter scar on her tummy, a scar right across her breastbone and a cast was still fastened to her face, covering half of her cheeks and all of her nose.

"Surgery to go?" Gil raised and eyebrow.

"Seems like it." Catherine stepped in front of him, shaking her head. "That's horrible..." She muttered, swallowing hard.

"What, the nature of the crime?" Sara placed herself beside Catherine, both their eyes glued to the victim.

"No..." She whispered. "How men and women can subject themselves to the pain of plastic surgery."

"Yeah, easy for you to say..." Sara muttered under her breath, stepping under the crime scene tape.

"Hey!" Catherine grabbed her by the arm, jerking her back on her side of the tape. "What does that mean?"

Sara wrestled her arm out of Catherine's grip. "Those that have it all are always quick to judge those who had to work for their bread."

She roughly let go of the brunette's arm, watching her sway due to the force. "I worked damn hard to get where I am right now..." The words slipped out through clenched teeth. "You have no idea what I've been through, Sara..."

"Cath."

She turned around, staring into his calming eyes before turning back to the younger CSI. "Don't think you're the only one in the world with problems, Sara..." Catherine breathed heavily, anger festering in the pit of her belly. She crossed the yellow barricade and carefully walked towards the dead body, her emotions immediately dissipating as her investigative mind took the reigns of her interest. Her eyes scanned the light porcelain skin of the woman in front of her, taking in how the scars, still with the blackened stitches, stood out, vehemently opposing any natural beauty. She bent down at the waist, her eyes noticing a light film on the body. "What do you think...dew?"

Gil squinted, stepping beside her and echoing her pose. "Temperature's too dry. It's not sweat either - she's been dead too long for her glands to continue to produce moisture." He glanced over his shoulder, watching David duck under the yellow tape. "Watch where you step, David."

David nodded and took smaller steps, his eyes perusing the dusty mud as he placed one foot in front of the other, directing himself towards the body. He stepped up and opened his kit, producing his liver thermometer. "Just a quick check, and I'll give you a ball-park figure on the time of death." He mumbled, cleaning the sharp end of the tool. Pressing his gloved hands against the woman's abdomen, he placed the thermometer against the skin, centering it between his index and middle finger. With a little pressure, he slid it in, and waited for the results.

Gil glanced at Catherine who was still staring at the body. He knew that Sara's words had come back to rile her, and he glanced back at the bold brunette, who was now busying herself by taking pictures of the single set of footprints that led to and from the crime scene. His eyes swam back to the strawberry-blonde beside him, who was know looking at him with a hint sadness in her eyes. He wanted to place the problem's stem on the victim and it's effect, but he knew the root was sprouting further underground.

"Grissom?"

He glanced up at David, studying a flash of panic cross the young man's face.

"I'm not getting a liver temp. reading."

Gil rubbed the back of his neck, feeling perspiration begin to form. "Too hot?" He asked, glancing at the body.

"No," David continued, removing the thermometer with a surprising amount of difficulty, "no liver."

Gil side-glanced at Catherine, who had opted to search for the same cryptic answers in his eyes.

David held up the thermometer, as Gil clicked on his Mag-Lite and shone it on the tip. "Looks like..." David peeled some off and rolled it between his index and his thumb. "Wax."

"Wax?" Catherine asked, the wheels of her mind turning, trying to remember any information on such a blood replacement. "Wax..." She repeated to herself, before snapping her fingers, gaining Gil's attention. "Alexander the Great."

He watched her for a few moments, seemingly reading her mind through the excitement in her eyes.

"Embalming." He nodded, standing up to find Jim. "Jim." He called out to the captain, who was busy discussing the foot print patterns with Sara. "Sara." Gil motioned both of them to join him. "Okay, Jim, I need you to find the most recent organ transplants, listing the donors and recipients." He glanced at the body, before continuing. "I'm guessing heart, kidneys and liver - in the past two days." He nodded consent to David to have the body removed, opting to analyse it back at the lab, rather than let nature continue to hinder their collective process. "Hopefully the Surgery center keeps records, else DNA identification problems might result." He sighed, wiping the back of his wrist across his sweaty brow. "Sara, have you gathered everything you need, here?"

She nodded, her eyes sweeping the area one last time. "What about the removal and transportation of the trolley?"

Gil pondered, before turning back to David. "Keep the body on the original trolley." He ordered the young coroner while pointing to an officer on the scene. "Have him help you load the body and trolley together, okay?"

"Sure thing, Grissom." David acquiesced, heading over to transfer the directions to the armed officer.

The team watched the body being carted away by David and the officer. Gil bent down on one knee and opened his kit, producing two spindles of string. He handed one to Catherine, and motioned her to follow him. Tying one end into a little ball, he attached it to a hooped nail, and planted it in the ground. Walking alongside the fresh tracks that the trolley's removal produced, he waited for Catherine to follow his lead. The two stood back, admiring the reflective string box in the newer set of tracks, allowing them to distinguish those from the crime scene. "Let's head back to the lab, and start analysing what we have." He held up the tape for both Sara and Catherine to cross, following close behind as they made their way back to their Denali.

–TBC–


	3. Chapter 3

(disclaimers et all in first chapter)

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Gil walked in the layout room, his eyes immediately finding her form. "David sent me a sample of the wax, complete with it's molecular composites." He paused a second, joining her on the other side of the table. "I love over-achievers...makes my job that much easier." He grinned, throwing her a playful wink. 

She cocked her head to the side, her eyes analysing the sudden roguish behaviour that graced his otherwise serious personality. She leaned against the wall, boxed in by the table and his body, and just observed him as he meticulously unravelled the vial, which had been carefully rolled up in a cloth and identified with care. She sidled up to him, her shoulder barely brushing his, smiling as the games were about to commence.

Gil tensed up slightly, before relaxing against the minute pressure her shoulder was offering him. He side-spied her, a habit he adopted quite a while ago, and watched the intensity she attacked her work with. His right arm tingled, stemming from their mutual contact, all the way down to his fingertips. It wasn't as if he wasn't used to such a touch, but his body still reacted in such a manner that always made him blush. After emptying a bit of the contents on a small tray, he placed the vial back on the table. Taking a pair of tweezers, he picked up a small piece of crystallized wax and held it up to the light, his analytical eyes searching for any distinguishing characters. "Whoever did this, didn't brush up on their chemistry."

She leaned in close, her breasts resting against his arm. "Well, maybe they didn't want to achieve perfection."

Gil swallowed hard and placed the tweezers back in the tray. "What do you mean?"

She moved away, taking a step towards the photos that were laid out on the table. "When we got back, I went and snapped a few pictures before David started the autopsy." She pointed to a few, showing off new scars over older ones. "I checked her file," she began, holding up a folder, "and Alexandra had quite a bit of work done on her."

"So, you're saying that, these new scars are almost a reverse-metamorphosis." He looked back at the pictures, his eyes scanning each one of them. "A butterfly back into the cocoon."

She rolled her eyes, letting out a huff. "Typical."

He took a step back, his brow furrowing at her sudden change in mood. "What?"

She kept her eyes glued to the papers, not wanting him to see the hurt and anger lingering. "It's such a typical ignorant response. Just because she decided to return to her natural beauty, which off the record I don't think is the case, you automatically assume she went beautiful to ugly." Catherine gripped the edge of the table, trying to control her emotions.

"Okay, maybe the analogy I used was wrong, but you have to understand this: the cocoon is probably the most beautiful part of the transition. When a caterpillar enters the cocoon, its inner beauty exposes itself in a physical form. It's still a butterfly in that cocoon, and one could say that the freedom it gets when it breaks away, is merely more confidence." He shrugged, his personal thoughts seeping in to their conversation. "Granted, I'm not a supporter for plastic surgery unless its for reconstructive and health purposes, but sometimes we don't know what they've been through to get to that point." He reiterated some famous words previously expressed.

Catherine's mouth fell into a thin line, her eyebrow raised in an jesting annoyance. "Touché, Bugman."

He gave her a lopsided grin and stepped closer to her, trying to ignore the surprised look at his sudden bold demeanor. "So, what makes you think that Alexandra didn't choose to have her implants taken off?" He picked up the picture of her right breast and studied it closely, noting how the scars from the removal were right beneath the faded original scars from the implant surgery. "And why didn't they just follow the original scarring?"

"Exactly." Catherine agreed with his question, the same one having already plagued her for moments prior to his presence. "We're dealing with an amateur, someone who wanted to destroy her image, her physical self."

He pursed his lips, picking up the another picture, this one boasting a scar right near her breastbone, where her heart had been removed from, he assumed. "I don't know, it can go either way." He picked up his magnifying glass and held it up to the picture, taking in a closer work. "Despite the stitches falling in sync with the previous ones for her breasts, it's still pretty tight." He stood behind her, pressing his chest to her back as he held up the photo for her to see. "I'm thinking he side-stepped the original scars with the intent to give her news ones, thus adding strength to your anti-perfection theory."

Catherine inhaled sharply, discreetly looking over her shoulder at him. For a split-second, she wondered if he was playing her game too, if he had figured out or overheard her little bet with the mischievous Texan. Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she glanced at the picture, noting the careful stitching that stared back at her.

"I think you're right though - I don't think Alexandra wanted to go back to the way she was." He placed the photo back in its place and picked up one of her face. "But it looks like someone made that decision for her." He narrowed his eyes, looking at her crooked nose and uneven nostrils. He carefully extracted the 'before and after' pictures from the folder that Catherine had been holding, and held them up along with the pictures that Catherine took, in the morgue. "They gave her back her old nose." He commented, his eyes ping-ponging from one to the other.

Catherine nodded, looking over his shoulder. "Yeah, but in worse condition that the original." She cringed, thinking of the procedure.

"So, our suspect is familiar with plastic surgery - I'm thinking one of the doctors at the hospital might be able to shed some light on the who's and why's." Picking up the tray which the wax was still sitting on, he placed it under the microscope and bent down, trying to get a closer view of the substance.

Catherine's eyes followed his form, trailing from his shoulders, down the right side of his back, all the way down to his firm rear. She nervously chewed on her lower lip, wondering whether or not to follow through with her ridiculous bet with Nick. She wasn't doubting her abilities to turn a man on; her days at the French Palace had given her enough reactions to support her confidence in her abilities. The lingering doubt proved to be -his- reaction, and the impending evolution of their friendship: would things change for the better or for the worst?

"Heya Grissom." He drawled, interrupting her moment of thought. "Cath." He gave her a wink, smug and mocking.

"Nick." She clicked out his name with an abruptness that caught Gil's attention.

Still from his bent position, he glanced at her with a questioning gaze. "Nick, what can we help you with?" He asked the younger CSI, though his analytical gaze was still fixed on the strawberry-blonde. When she finally offered him an innocent smile, both eyebrows raised in a question of her own, he finally specifically addressed Nick. "Don't you have those cases of yours to close?"

Nick sighed, leaning against the table. "Aw Gris, I've been knee-deep in paper for the last three hours."

"Sources tell me that you've been waist-deep in water at the cooler, chatting up the pretty new lab tech from days." Gil stated, matter-of-factly.

Catherine stifled a giggle, masking it with a cough when both men glanced at her. Pursing her lips, she pretended to busy herself, looking over some information she printed up, on embalming.

"Nick, I'm not letting you anywhere near this case, or any other case for that matter." Gil replied, looking back in the microscope. "You'll be pulling a triple if I give you any more work, and Cavallo will be riding my ass."

"Mm, lovely imagery."

He shot her a warning glance, though playful in its intent. "Nick -"

"Alright, alright - I'm going, I'm going." The Texan acquiesced, slowly backing out of the layout room.

"Paper loves you." Catherine called out to him, a sly grin hidden behind her angelic exterior.

"Keep taking your time, Cat," he retorted, using the nickname she loathed, "his biological clock is ticking and you know that Viagra is against the rules." With a loud guffaw, Nick turned and walked out, heading for the break room.

"Viagra?" Gil glanced at his shocked partner. "Catherine, what is he talking about?" Off her cross looked, he retreated slightly. "Oh...I take it that I don't want to know." He nodded and pointed to the microscope. "Pretty straight up embalming wax was used. They just didn't heat and mix it well enough, which caused some crystallisation in the veins."

She stepped up to him and purposely leaned forward, pressing up against him. Bracing a hand on the edge of the table, she calculated her position well before bending down and looking innocently into the microscope.

His head shot up as soon as the back of her hand rubbed against his arousal. "Ay, there's the rub." He muttered, his mind taking a step back but his body not complying.

She glanced down at her hand, suddenly feeling a little more pressure applied to her hand. Chancing a look up, what she saw caused her heart to skip a beat: eyes closed, teeth clenched and lost in what appeared to be a euphoric state, her supervisor stood unmoving from their contact. She wiggled her fingers slightly, no longer focussing on her best-friend's imminent pleasure, but on the own feelings she was experiencing through the eroticism of touch. Her hand became slightly more detached from the table, daring to venture to an even more intimate level. Suddenly, a hand grabbed hold of her wrist, and she felt her back connect roughly with the wall, her arms being pinned above her head.

Gil shocked himself with his boldness, as he pressed himself further against her body, drinking in her equally startled expressing. "Catherine," he said her name slow and deliberately, "now why would you do that?" He chose a more innocent and light approach, wanting to see her reaction...even to feel her reaction, perhaps.

She was turned-on. She didn't want to admit it, but she was turned-on, and she knew that his state was heightened as well. Her lips moved before any sound came out, and she was able to squeak past a 'nothing', in answer to his knowing question.

"Well, that didn't feel like nothing." Gil added simply, moving his head to obstruct her view whenever her eyes flitted from embarrassment. "So...care to explain?" He asked finally, enjoying the way she jumped slightly when he placed his right hand on her waist.

"I - I don't know what you're talking about." Feigned innocence was the route she chose, and she hoped that he would buy her lame excuse. "I uh, I think you were right concerning the wax - I think whoever did this has some general knowledge concerning embalming procedures, but any random Joe can get that off the internet."

Gil hummed in agreement, his eyes piercing her with an intense stare. "And he or she is familiar with Alexander the Great."

"Right, David mentionned finding a film like substance coating her body. My bet is honey." She raised her left leg, resting the inside of her thigh against hip, granting him a closer feel.

He took her challenge, his hand sliding down from her waist to rest against the bare skin of her thigh, granted by her skirt having inched its way up. "That's a very good bet." He paused, sending her a sly grin. "Multiple choice question, Alexander the Great was embalmed following who's procedure: 'a' the Assyrians, 'b' the Persians, 'c' the Jews or 'd' the Egyptians?"

She leaned her head closer, until she took feel his breath hit her face. "Trick question. He was embalmed using the practice of both the Assyrians and the Persians, with a mixture of honey and wax."

He let go of her pinned wrists, letting his left hand trail down her arm, before finding home just above her hip. "Good girl. Seems as though someone did her homework."

Her mind fingered the idea of doing something else in the room, but she knew now was not an appropriate time to let herself be affected by him. Granted, his current position, hard against her thigh, was not helping her calm her libido.

"So, returning to our prior subject..." He opened the door for her to come clean, all the while allowing a sibylline touch to seep through.

"I told you Gil, it's nothing." Her composure was slowly being rebuilt, her confidence pushing a sauciness of her own.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with that little bet you and Nick have going, would it?" His tone held a certain mocking air, and he delighted in her dawning state.

"That little thing? Oh that's nothing, something completely unrelated to our - "

" - compromising situation?" He finished for her, his hand gently squeezing her thigh.

Her body jerked slightly, and she hoped that she had intercepted it enough to mask it from his eyes, though she knew such an aspiration was probably in vain. "This," she motioned between them, before resting her hands against his chest, "this is all a misunderstanding."

"Is it?" His hand ventured higher, slipping under the hem of her skirt.

Her eyes grew wide, and she nodded a response, not trusting herself to speak at the moment as his hand continued to rise up her skirt.

He gave her a pure smile before quickly withdrawing, heading back to the microscope and returning the wax back into the vial. "Well I'm sorry for putting you in that position, Catherine." He stated honestly, despite the puckish smile that was present. "No hard feelings?"

"If you say so." She stated coyly, nodding a greeting at Jim.

Gil stood there staring at her, slack-jawed in awe at her comment.

"Gil?" Jim waved his hand in front of his friend's view. "You still with us? I said that I managed to contact her the hospital where Alexandra Greetly worked, and managed to get a small," he paused, his sarcastic smile ever present, "session with her boss."

Gil nodded, as he noticed that Catherine was no longer beside him. He immediately searched for her, finding her near the entrance, chatting with Nick. As he approached, he heard mention of 'one point' and took in Nick's pouting disposition. He walked by Catherine, leaning ever-so slightly but still enough to invade her personal space. "Ay, that was goes the game."

–TBC–


End file.
